


Backgame

by syredronning



Series: Draws [17]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Dark Past, F/M, Miscarriage, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucky draws are still not in the cards of Chris' tribe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backgame

**Author's Note:**

> This is another more challenging part, but in a "per aspera ad astra" kind of way, things will get better. Always remember: This series comes with a happy ending guarantee!
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful beta go to shagungu, my eternal savior. All remaining flaws are solely mine.

Chris dreams about something sweet and hot that he doesn't remember the second he opens his eyes, but the smile on his lips lingers as he curls, still half-asleep, around Dael at his side, burying his nose into short hair. Slides his hand around a tiny waist and up her chest, caressing a soft nipple on the way before drifting down again, coming to rest on her belly. It always felt warm and sexy to him, but never more so than now that he's come to terms with the child that grows inside, their pass to the future.

There's no alarm to ring them awake, no need anymore to get up and go to work; it's all said and done, retirement effective as of today, the ceremony brief and quick last week. He could've lived without one, but he knows the organization can't, so he let them get it over with. There's little regret about his life in Starfleet when he looks at the whole, and he's thankful that Illyon managed the feat of bringing his career to an end that feels like a successful closure. Nogura had attended in the background, and he'd ignored him for most parts; their last handshake might've been filled with tangible regret on Nogura's side, but not on his.

Dael sleepily moves against him, and he places kisses on her neck and shoulders, feeling his dick perk up in interest as he keeps caressing his wonderful woman. He's become more careful with her again, always a little aware of the fact that there's another, vulnerable being hiding in her now. She's already complained once about him being overly considerate when she just wanted a good, hard fuck. He can't really help it right now and thinks that keeping it slower for a few months won't kill any of them. 

So when he rises up on his left arm and uses his right to shift her upper leg forward, making room for him to slip into her pussy, he's also definitely not going to swap around anywhere, the doc's warning words about their favorite and still quite unhygienic sexual practice (the special lubes notwithstanding) in his ears. An infection could endanger the baby, last thing any of them needs. The roll of his hips is fluid but subdued, a slow friction building.

"Stop thinking and start working, Christopher," Dael mutters against the cushion. "Unless you want me to fall asleep again." 

He chuckles. "Well, can't have that." Getting up on his knees, he crouches over her, keeping the interesting angle of her being on her side, her upper leg between them. His hips start rolling faster as he gathers speed, riding her harder. Her hands are all over his chest, scratching his arms and tweaking his nipples to the point of pain — a very encouraging kind of pain, that is. Once in a while she feeds a finger into his mouth at which he hungrily sucks. His breathing getting labored, he notices that while the angle is interesting, it's not really making her come any easier. 

"Bring your leg over," he mutters, pulling a little upward to give her the space necessary for it. She instantly shifts, ending with legs spread and free access for her hand to settle on her clit. The change is immediate, her participation level doubling and bringing their whole act to a rather fast, intense crescendo at just the same moment, an unusual treat. Feeling her contract around his erection is awesome, her body milking him down to the last drops. He sinks forward, nipping kisses up her neck while trying to breath again.

"So how did it feel, getting fucked by a free man?" Chris whispers in her ear at last.

Dael chuckles. “I love the free man. He's just a little too reluctant at the moment."

"It'll pass." Chris smiles, caressing her. They stay in their post-orgasmic cuddle for a while, then Dael has a shower and he starts the coffee machine. She joins him in the kitchen with a towel around her hips and her comm in hand. A brief kiss to his lips on her way to the chair, she takes a seat.

"Arissa called, she'd love to get some help this evening with a stage decoration," Dael says as he puts the coffee in front of her. "Would you mind...?"

"Not at all. John left a message, wondering whether I'd be up for a special celebration in the club with him and Eric tonight. As you know, they'll be on their way to the Alpha Tauri system in a week. Guess you don't mind if I go on my own?" 

"Absolutely not. Enjoy your time with them." Their fingers lace on the table. A warm, content feeling rushes through Chris. Somehow he can't quite believe yet how good all of this feels... if the first day of his new life is already so awesome, he can't wait for the next thousands.

***

"Congratulations, _Mister_ Pike," John says when they meet in front of Chris' club at 2200, and shakes his hand before pulling him into a deep kiss. "So, how does it feel to be a retiree?"

"I prefer to think of myself simply as free," Chris says amused, and unlaces from John to accept Eric's just as hearty hug and kiss.

"So, when are Jim and Leonard coming home?" Eric asks when they're seated at the bar and nursing their first bottles of beer, John's hand comfortable on Chris' upper thigh. The touch is warm and promising.

"In less than two weeks, unfortunately after your departure" Chris replies. 

"And what are they going to do here?"

"Jim's going to work for Illyon in Ship Operations. The doc has several offers of research positions. Spock will become the new captain of the _Enterprise_."

"Must be hard on Jim, giving up such a position," Eric says. " _Captain of the Enterprise_ , can't get a much better job title than that, can you?"

"No," Chris says truthfully, "but he's never had any doubt that being with his child is more important to him than his captaincy." 

"And with Dael and the doc and you. Smitten young idiot," John says teasingly, lifting his bottle "Here's to your happy home in the countryside. Can't shake your roots after all, farm-boy."

"Maybe not — and it's okay." Chris smiles, and clinks bottles with his friends.

John chuckles. "I was wrong — you haven't returned to being your tough self. Instead, you've become one big softie!" 

"Nothing big left to fight for," Chris says. "And really, I can live with that after the last years. Certainly don't need another ride like that." He tilts his head into Eric's touch as the young man runs his fingers down his neck. Mellow for sure, though one part of him is just about to harden in expectation. He hums as John's fingers on his thigh teasingly edge along his growing bulge.

"That your comm?" Eric asks, and Chris opens his eyes in slight confusion. "Comm? Oh, right." He'd set the unit resting in the small pocket of his leather vest to vibrate only, not expecting any calls and certainly not wanting to ruin the club atmosphere if one arrived, so it was easy to miss its quiet signal. When he picks it up, the signal has already stopped. 

" _Arissa_ ," the display identifies the caller. His relaxed mood instantly shifts to alert.

Seconds later, he retrieves the voice message. He lets it output to speakers. It's short and urgent, her voice rushed.

_Hi Chris, Arissa here. Dael's not feeling well, we're getting her beamed out to SFM right now, meet us there when you can. Love, Arri_

"Shit," Chris says, his hand sinking down. 

"We'll get you there," John says. Five minutes later, they're on their way in John's car, riding far beyond any limits.

They're not exactly dressed for a hospital outing, Chris realizes when they enter the building, their dark leather outfits having "cruising" written all over them to anyone in the know. However, the two men that greet them in front of the entry to the emergency unit look even more out of place, dressed in colorful materials with wide slits leaving little to the imagination, their faces layered with intense stage make-up. 

"Christopher Pike?" the taller one, face framed with hair of bright silver, asks them when they approach.

"The same," Chris says. "These are John and Eric, friends of mine," nodding towards his companions.

"I'm Norden, this is Zack," the man says, shaking his hand. "We're from the band 'Taste of Mondrian', and we were having our final rehearsal tonight. Dael designed most of our stage decorations, and so she was with us when she started to feel ill all of a sudden." 

"Define _ill_ ," Chris says, controlled.

"Well, getting all pale and shaky. She was up on a scaffold at that point, but managed to climb down most of it before she slipped and fell off. At that point, Arri was already close enough to catch her. I'm sure she didn't get hurt from it, but... there was blood." Norden suggestively waves towards his groin. "Enough to seep through her jeans. She was alert enough to arrange the beam out, though." A momentary wave of guilt rushes over the man's painted face. "I — the band, we didn't know about her pregnancy. If I had known... we could've been more careful, I guess."

"It's not the first time that something like that has happened, so no use in getting worked up too much," Chris says calmly, although he feels his chest constricting, a wave of foreshadowing rushing through him. Taking a few deep breaths, he allows his inner walls to rise. Better safe than sorry.

Norden slightly leans forward, adding quietly, "Dael said something about a Jim. She was concerned and agitated when we got her here. Did she mean Jim Kirk from Starfleet, the one who sometimes hung out with her at Arri's parties?" 

Chris nods. "Yes, he's the father."

"Oh. I met him a while ago. Nice guy. I'd be very sorry if anything bad happened tonight," the man says.

"Let's hope it's just another false alarm."

They stand in silence for a little while, then some of them move to sit at the nearby chairs. Chris can't, nervously strolling through the corridor instead with John by his side. 

"It can't happen now," he mutters at one point, curling one hand into a fist. "Not when everything is just the way we want it."

John puts his arm around Chris' shoulder. "I'm sure all will be well." They come to a stop.

"I submitted the application for the land we agreed upon just two days ago. Jim and the doc are about to leave the Enterprise in _six fucking days_. Dael's been great ever since The Talk. There have been no problems whatsoever."

"I know. She'll be alright. The baby will be alright," John says softly, taking him into a full embrace. Chris leans into it, his forehead coming to rest on John's shoulder. At this moment, the door to the emergency unit opens and a female doctor walks out.

"Admiral Pike?" the woman asks around.

Chris unlaces from John, rushing towards her. "That's me." She looks at him, the sadness pouring out through her professional mask a death blow to his hopes. 

"I'm Doctor Fullman," she introduces herself, then hesitates, looking around at the small assembly.

"They're all friends of ours, please speak openly," Chris manages to say, his voice rough. "How is she? How's the baby?"

The doctor focuses back on him. "I'm very sorry," she starts, and he barely hears the end of the sentence over the blood rushing through his ears, "she lost it."

His hand blindly reaches out, getting caught in a strong hold, John's or maybe Eric's. For a second it feels like free fall, but before the crash comes, his shields are all up, hard and impenetrable, and his posture holds as if liquid metal is flushed through his veins. 

"Can I see her?" he asks, his voice all of a sudden flat and emotionless. 

"Of course. She's awake, but in a state of shock. Therefore, we'd prefer to limit the number of visitors."

Chris nods, looking at John and Eric. "Go home. I'll call you later." They accept it, taking him into a last embrace. 

"We'll take our leave too," Norden says. "Arri will keep us posted. And — I'm very sorry for your loss, sir." 

Chris nods again, then follows Doctor Fullman along a corridor and into a room. It's deja-vu, Dael in a hospital bed, a tiny, pale figure. But unlike last time, she's awake, her empty gaze resting on the ceiling.

Arissa sits on the other side, holding Dael's hand. "I'm so sorry, Chris," she says sadly and gets up from her place next to the bed, offering him a hug which he takes without really feeling it. 

"I'd love to stay but I can't, really," Arissa murmurs. "I've been preparing a band tour with the boys, we need to get everything packed within the next five hours."

"It's okay. We'll manage." His world is flat and gray and doesn't hurt. 

"Call me anytime. I'll be able to arrange something, I swear."

"Yes. Thanks." He takes her place on the chair near the window, touching Dael's unusually cool hand. Doctor Fullman is still with them, taking inventory of the data on the panel above her bed.

"Dael, love..." Chris says in a low voice, but she doesn't react. He looks up, meeting the doctor's gaze.

"Physically all parameters are within normal range, aside from a slight hormonal imbalance that should stabilize within the next hours. We'd still like to keep her here overnight. You may stay, if you want. The chair is transformable, just press the button to the right to extend it into a bed. Drinks and snacks are on the corner shelf." 

"Understood. Thank you."

"If you need anything, ring the alarm. Including psychological support," the doctor adds.

"Yes, thanks." Chris looks at Dael, glad to hear the door closing after the woman — as detached as he currently feels from the world, dealing with people beyond the one he really cares for right now is agonizing. 

The room settles in absolute silence.

"I feel... nothing," Dael whispers after what feels like hours. 

"It's a protection mechanism," Chris says. "It's similar for me."

"Like white fog in my mind. All blank and empty."

"It's okay. It's how we are." He leans over, kisses her. Long-forgotten fairy tales of humans selling their souls to the devil cross his mind. Devils had pointed ears too, he notices for the first time. The idea brings a sudden, absurd urge to smile before the walls win and superstition fails in the face of rationality taking over, a rationality that's not really his own but that's what he wanted, needed to survive.

Sold his soul, possibly, but kept his sanity.

"I can't tell Jim. I don't know how." She curls towards him, and he protectively covers her. She buries her face against his shoulder. 

A problem at hand, something to focus on. Chris thinks about it. 

"Did you add the doc as a consulting physician yet?"

"Yes."

Chris pulls the comm out of his pocket, not surprised by the words on the display. 

_1 missed long-distance call. McCoy, Leonard, NCC-1701_. 

A problem with an easy solution. The only one of that kind tonight.

"Seems he already knows. I'll write him a message." 

_Leonard._  
 _You probably know the sad news. Or if not, please consult Dael's medical data. I'm in hospital, staying with her. Could you tell Jim? We wouldn't know how._  
 _Sorry for leaving you this job._  
 _Talk to you in a few hours._  
 _Love, Chris_

"I'm so cold. Lie down next to me," Dael whispers. 

The bed would be wide enough for the two of them, but doctors hate to get their data wrecked, Chris thinks with a gaze at the panel. 

Ah well. It's all gone to hell anyway. "Sure. Give me a second to strip," he says and lets her hand go for a moment. She watches him take off the vest and the leather pants, only leaving the briefs on. 

"I'm sorry I ruined your evening," she says as he slips under the covers next to her. "I'm sorry I ruined everything."

He draws her close. "You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing we could've done." 

"What are we going to do now?" she asks blankly. 

"Sleep," Chris says. "Just sleep."

And they fall asleep together in exhausted stupor.

***

Someone tries to come in quietly, but the noise is enough to wake Chris up. It's Doctor Fullman, making an "all well" gesture while she looks at the panel. Dael remains asleep, her regular, gentle breaths cooling his skin. He catches his comm. It's four in the morning and there's a message.

_Rarely had worse news to relate to Jim._  
 _He's desperate to speak with Dael. Don't let him wait too long._  
 _Leonard_

Typing with one hand, he answers, 

_Need to do that from home. I promise we will. Chris._

They get woken up at seven, when breakfast is delivered. Afterwards, Fullman joins them again.

"Ms Dael, I need to speak with you in private for a minute," the doctor says. "Sir, would you please leave the room?"

Dael frowns. "I don't mind him listening."

"But I do. Please, Sir."

The doctor ushers him out of bed, and Chris gives in, dressing and leaving the room. He's confused as he walks in circles in front of the door, wondering what caused the doctor's unexpected behavior.

At last the doctor comes out. "Sir, I discharged her. You can leave for home. I've sent you both some helpful information to your accounts, please refer to these in case of need."

He glances into the room, shocked when he notices Dael's position on the bed, the way she's seated with her arms curled around her folded legs. A posture of self-protection he hadn't seen from her in quite some time, one she'd only ever displayed in extreme distress.

"What did you say to her?" he asks concerned. 

"It's confident information. She will hopefully share it with you in due time," Doctor Fullman says evasively. "I'm sorry, sir. I wish you all the best."

Chris watches the woman walk away in disbelief. What the hell... 

He walks into the room, sitting down on the bed. "Dael, what happened?" he asks, reaching out for her. She sways away, mutely shaking her head.

_Shit._

"You're discharged. We can go home. That okay by you?" he says. He gets up, collecting her cleaned clothes and giving them to her. For a second he wonders whether she'll ignore him, but then she slowly uncurls and puts on the shirt. Minutes later, she's ready to leave but still avoids his touch. 

"Let's go," Chris says. 

A car waits for them at the entry of Starfleet Medical.

"Spock," Chris says, freezing when he recognizes the person next to it.

"I will take you home," the old Vulcan says. They help Dael get seated in the back, but before Spock can take the driver's seat, Chris stops him, closing the door for a second. No need for Dael to listen. 

"Who called you?"

"A friend," Spock replies.

"You knew, didn't you?" Chris says, a sudden wave of anger surging from behind softening walls. "You knew this would happen."

Spock meets his gaze. "I didn't know, Admiral."

"Maybe not details but you knew _something_ would happen, right? That's why you showed up here in the first place. That's why you warned Starfleet. Why couldn't you warn Dael or me? Why? _WHY_?"

Spock captures Chris' fist, the one he'd started to punch against the Vulcan's shoulder, driven by helpless frustration and the flaring pain inside of him. 

The pain subsides, but not from within himself this time, instead absorbed by the man in front of him.

"I feel with the four of you, Christopher." Spock says gravely. "And believe me, I did not know." 

Chris closes his eyes, sagging forward. 

"I'm sorry, Spock. I... maybe I just wanted to have somebody to blame, some reason in all of this."

"Apologies are unnecessary," the Vulcan replies softly, his hands supporting Chris. "Please, let me take you to your home."

Chris withdraws, opening the door to sit down next to Dael. She leans against him but doesn't pose the question he expects.

"I will stay in the city for another week," Spock says as they exit the car.  
"If I can be of help, please contact me."

"Never got your number," Chris says, remembering the various occasions he'd tried to gather Spock's help for something and never received a reply.

"You have it now." Spock inclines his head in the suggestion of a nod, then drives away. 

They ride up to the apartment in silence. He's not surprised when Dael walks straight into her room, curling into the farthest corner from the door. It still hurts and disturbs him. Not the least because they've got something to do.

"You need to speak with Jim."

Dael mutely shakes her head. 

"Please. Dael. He's waiting for your call. He needs to speak to you."

She looks at him, arms clamped around her knees, a shine in her eyes. "Ask Leonard," is all she says before withdrawing completely, not answering any of his pleas.

***

They manage a conference call just an hour later. 

"I'm so sorry, Jim," Chris says. "I wish... " He wishes that for once their dreams had a chance to become true, but he's strangely resigned in face of fate being against them, once more. 

_If you can't fight it, embrace it_. He can feel how he gave up the fight last night, though not the absolute will to live through this. It's a strange combination.

"I know, Chris," Jim says, pale and with an aura of bone-deep sadness. The doc looks similarly sorrowful, but also has a certain air of professional detachment around him when he speaks. 

"As you know, Dael recently added me as one of her consulting physicians, so I've received all her medical information, past and present, including the examination results after her miscarriage. There are some unexpected results... and as she doesn't feel able to discuss the subject with you at the moment, she authorized me to inform you about the contents."

"What is it?" Chris asks flatly. Any bit of information would be helpful in Dael's current state of inapproachability but the way the doc frames it, it really seems to be something painful.

The doc clears his throat. "The medical checkup after the loss of the baby revealed old wounds in her uterus. They are typical for an abortion performed by a quack without surgical knowledge or the right instruments." 

The realization of what that means hits Chris like a cold wave of water. 

"An abortion?" Jim asks wide-eyed.

"Yes. Very likely, she's been pregnant before."

"And she didn't know," Chris says, not really a question. 

"No, she didn't," Leonard confirms.

"How can she _not_ know something like that?" Jim asks, confusion written all over his face. "A pregnancy and an abortion, how come she can't remember something that far-reaching?"

Chris sinks into his chair, closing his eyes and pressing two fingers against the root of his nose. No wonder Dael doesn't know how to deal with this news, after all the effort Lady T'Pelei had taken to shield her from those memories. It could've been much worse than Dael's current reaction of hiding in silence — the walls could've come down and pulled her into her former state which must have been similar to psychosis or schizophrenia. But, he suddenly understands, somewhere deep in her subconscious, she'd always _known_ ; what they'd thought to be a wish for children due to her lost family was actually the desire to be the mother she had already once been about to become.

How sad, sad, sad. 

He shakily inhales, then feels his walls fortifying again, his emotions being tuned down in intensity. A second later, accepting peace settles, with only a tinge of the former overwhelming sadness. 

"Chris?" On the other side of the screen, Jim is still waiting for an answer. 

No matter what Chris knows, he can't explain this to the men — he'd sworn to T'Pelei that he'd keep it all to himself. 

Thankfully, Leonard steps in. "You know how that works, Jim — sometimes, when a human encounters something that is too painful to deal with, the mind will do a lot to forget it." 

"You mean, she just forgot?"

"No, she repressed it." 

"And why didn't it show before?" Jim keeps asking. "She's in Starfleet, we're all screened and scanned time and again."

Leonard nods. "Yes, but as long as there isn't a problem, there aren't extensive scans of all body parts." Seeing their obviously confused gazes, Leonard explains, "Modern scanners are so fine-tuned that they're able to pick up every cell split gone wrong, but that's not how a human being works. Most deviations from the optimum are no problem. For example, they tried to establish preventive breast scans in the past, but the rate of false positives was so high that the desired result — saving more lives of women with developing cancer — was small compared to the overall risk to the well-being of everyone else."

Having had time to think, Chris asks the doc, "Do you have any idea how old she was when it happened?"

"Her body wasn't fully adult back then. Maybe sixteen or seventeen."

Chris nods. It fits into the time slot of the camp stay. He can't help wondering if this is the biggest secret from that time, or what else may hide in the shadows of her mind. 

Jim lowers his head, one hand in front of his eyes. For a while, they just sit in silence; Chris on one side, the men on the other. At last, Jim lifts his head again, his posture shifting, his blue eyes steelier. "So, what now?"

"I don't know," Chris says. "Right now, she's incommunicado, no surprise here, that's a typical reaction when she feels under heavy pressure. I'd hoped she'd come around after a bit of time. But with this new information... I don't know if that will happened so easily." 

"And how are you dealing with it?" Leonard asks.

_Fine. Just as emotionally numb as T'Sol helped me to be._

"I'm doing okay, considering the circumstances," Chris settles on saying. "She had so many pregnancy problems right from the beginning, I often wondered if the baby could be carried to term. So it was very sad news, but not completely unexpected." The memory of her sitting on the bathroom floor in her own blood crosses his mind, although the actual loss apparently had been much less spectacular. 

"My main concern is whether she'll get over it without any long-lasting health problems. Physiological or psychological."

"The first aspect shouldn't be a problem. In fact, now that we know about the scars, they can be treated in a minor surgery. That together with better nutrition should make her next pregnancy more successful," Leonard says. "It's the latter aspect that concerns me."

Chris nods.

"What about our plans, the farm?" Jim asks. "We were going to be on Earth within two weeks. I want to be there for her but obviously she doesn't want me to." He looks pained.

"I don't think it's a good moment to make a decision," Chris says. "Any decision. Give us a day or two, I'll try to get into contact with her. There's nothing you can do right now from a distance." 

"Guess not. You know her better than I do anyway," Jim says, and it sounds strangely accusing.

Chris ignores it. "I'll keep in touch, contact you as soon as I can." He wishes he could ease Jim's pain, but he can't. His eyes meet the doc's, who nods at him — it will be his lover's job to take care of his husband and captain. 

"Noted. Good luck, Chris," Jim says tonelessly. 

"Take care of her — and yourself," the doc adds, emphasizing the latter part.

"Will do. Talk to you soon." 

The line closes, leaving Chris in his emotional limbo. 

***

He's the caretaker, the person everyone speaks with, everyone wants information from. He gears up like the good little soldier he's always been and always will be, back straight, voice level, keeping everyone calm and composed in the middle of the storm. John and Eric offer asylum or company, which he appreciates but still declines for the time being. Arissa is agitated and upset that for once, her timing is pretty bad and she needs to leave for a month, not able to cancel the plans on which others depend. She'd tried to call Dael, to no avail. He manages to calm her a little too.

In moments when he's not talking to anyone, he sits truly in the eye of the storm, immersed in the reality of absolute silence that rests over the apartment, tomb-like. But he knows that once any of them moves, they'll be hit by the full-fledged storm.

He doesn't know yet whether they'll be able to stand its force.

Once in a while, he checks on Dael. She never seems to have moved, still in the corner, gaze empty, ignoring him. He briefly tells her about the talk with the men; he reminds her that there are decisions Jim and the doc have to make and that she's an integral part of that. He's not sure if that doesn't push her farther into her withdrawn state, but she's come a long way in the last years, no longer a mostly reactive young girl, but a woman who's grown to make her own decisions. She has to deal with the outcome of her actions (or non-actions, like ignoring protection and getting pregnant in the first place). He's willing to go to great lengths to support her, but he can't solve everything for her.

A large flower bouquet is delivered to his door, along with a card signed by four names, from the band whose name he's forgotten until he reads it in black on white again. He brings them to her room, placing them in front of her. 

He sleeps on the couch, unable to face their bedroom alone.

***

The next morning, the doorbell rings. 

It's Spock. 

"I need to speak with you."

Chris lets him in, wordlessly leading him to the living room. They sit down, Spock on the couch and Chris on an armchair, similarly to that meeting years ago when they first met.

Spock folds his hands. "Do you trust me?" 

Chris doesn't have to think about the answer. "I trust you when it comes to Jim's well-being... and ours, by extension."

"Would you entrust Dael to me? I will shortly go on a diplomatic mission in the area of Khal'kohachi and Galan VI, the planet she lived on afterwards. I assume that revisiting these places would be in her interest."

"Yes..." Chris answers after a minute of reflecting on it. "Yes, I think that might be good for her."

"I assume she is here?"

"In her room, not really talking at the moment, but try your luck. She'll definitely listen. Last door before the terrace."

Spock gets up, leaving Chris alone in the room. He blankly stares at the empty couch, images of happier days drifting through his mind. 

When quiet steps return, he looks up.

"She will consider it," Spock says.

"Good." He walks the Vulcan to the door, taken by surprise when Spock takes his hand between his two. They're warm and bring a sudden, calmer layer to his mind.

"Trust in the future, Christopher. All will be well."

Not knowing what to say, Chris shrugs and shakes his head. When he turns back into the apartment, though, it's to Dael sitting in the kitchen, clamping her hand around an empty cup. He takes it, preparing a coffee for her. 

"None for you?" she says as he sits down opposite her.

"Got enough of it for now." He's basically lived off it for a whole day. He puts his palms on the table, stretched out enough for an unspoken offer, loose enough not to push her into a reaction.

She strokes the cup, gaze unfocused on the liquid. 

The minutes tick by.

At last, she looks up, still not having drunk a drop. "Spock asked me to go with him." 

"He said he would. What's your answer?"

"I was shocked at first. To face the past... but then I listened inside of me and yes, I'd like to go."

"I'm glad," Chris says. "I think it's the right decision for you."

"You want me to go?"

"I want you to do whatever it takes to have the life you want. I want you to be happy."

"I thought I had it all, with you. With the baby. But now... now it feels as if the ghosts of my past came and stole his life." She shudders. "It's only an image, but that's how it feels. If I just tried to live like in the last years, without knowledge and closure, it would happen again. Something would come up and..." Her voice breaks. 

"Possible, yes." Chris thinks of his own ghosts. So far, he's good with them staying out of his life. Maybe, in a few years, he'd be at the point where Dael is now. Her life made his life possible — for all the years he's got on her, it's been her experiences that helped him overcome his own. 

"Did you sleep well last night?

She shakes her head.

"I didn't either. Let's go to bed," he says and slides from his chair. "You'll leave soon — let's enjoy the remaining time together as much as we can."

She nods, the coffee forgotten as she takes his offered hand. When they're in their bed, she curls around him with a sigh. "Thank you so much, Christopher. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

He caresses her shoulder. "I try to be. It's all I can do."

She leans forward and they kiss, sweetness framed by a sorrowful, resigned ache.

***

In the afternoon, Dael starts to prepare for her departure.

It doesn't come as a surprise when Jim's on the line shortly after she left the house to run some errands.

"She wants me to stay on the _Enterprise_ ," Jim says tonelessly. "Sent me a note that she's leaving Earth and so there's no reason for Bones and me to leave the _Enterprise_."

"Yes, that's her plan," Chris says. 

"You just let her leave you?"

"I'll let her _leave_ — with Spock, of all persons. As for leaving _me_ , that will be up to her."

"So what should I do? Just… forget her?" 

"That's not what it's about, Jim. She just doesn't want you to give up the things you love when she's not able to give you something else in return."

Jim shakes his head, visibly searching for words.

"You belong out in space," Chris says intensely. "The dreams we had, they're still waiting for us the moment we decide we want to follow through. But this wasn't the moment, this was too early, too fragile. She wasn't ready for it — I'm not just talking about her body, but her psyche. Whatever she does now, she needs that time to grow, and I'm ready to give her whatever she needs for that. Anything, even if that might mean the end of our relationship. But so far, I don't think it'll come to this. It's not about you or me. This is about her and her past, and we can't really help her besides offering our support and acceptance."

"Bones once warned me that she's not as stable as she appears." Jim hesitates. "That you both aren't."

"He's right," Chris replies. "We don't exactly function like normal human beings, thanks to the various Vulcan interventions, and it's probably useful to remember that once in a while."

Jim nods, his lips thinning. "Did you ever wonder what might've happened to Dael in the other reality?"

"I did… and I tend to think it would've been less bad than her youth in this one. But we'll never know."

"Have you ever heard of the Tarsus colony? 4000 murdered by a man nicknamed Kodos the Executioner?"

"No." Tragic as it may be, the galaxy is large and 4000 is actually a small number; there's a madman in every other star system, nothing short of millions of dead ever really hit the Federation news.

"In the old Spock's universe, I'd been there and survived starvation and mass killings, and was one of the few who'd ever seen Kodos face to face. My uncle and aunt died, as did most of my friends. In this life, I was spared that fate." Jim looks somberly. "Whenever I think about that, it makes me feel as if I traded place with Dael this time around. As if any universe has a certain amount of personal pain, and the sum will always be a constant, it's just a question of how it is distributed."

Chris frowns about this strange philosophy. "Well, in this universe your father died much too early, which has caused more than enough pain to you and your family."

"True." Jim falls silent for a moment. "I'm going to talk it through with Bones, but I guess we'll follow her suggestion and stay here, if that's what she wants. It's not like you want us planetside either." For a second, there's a world of frustration, pain and hurt love breaching through Jim's controlled façade. 

Chris sighs. "Jim — you know I love you both, but it's pointless for you to come here when I, like Dael, feel that staying on Earth isn't really a viable solution for any of us right now."

"So you're going to run away too?" 

"I'm not going to run away. But I can't sit around and twiddle my thumbs either. I underwent the intervention with T'Sol so that I could _work_ again, and that's what I need to do now. I need something to occupy me, and I won't find that by pursuing something that's impossible right now. Hunting the ghost of dreams… I can't, Jim."

"I understand," Jim says flatly. "You'll hear from us soon, one way or the other. Until then — Godspeed, Chris." The connection closes.

For a while, Chris keeps sitting in front of the dark screen. He doesn't feel a quarter as energetic and determined as he'd presented himself to Jim but he'd meant every word. When Dael leaves, he has no reason to stay. He still loves the apartment but it's become too much of a sarcophagus of their dreams to just keep on living here. It's too empty and too large, and at the same time too small and limited. 

The second he decides to get up, the console signals an incoming call. It's the doc. 

"Thought I'd catch you," Leonard says. "As you probably expected, we're going to stay here. Jim already pulled our applications for reassignment to Earth. Mori signaled that it won't be a problem, and Spock looked fucking relieved. How weird." He sighs. "Two years ago, this reassignment would've been my biggest wish. Now I've done everything to make us to stay here. Funny how circumstances can change."

"Everything changes, all the time. It's called fate."

Leonard eyes him with a frown. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem so untouched by it all. Why?"

Chris shakes his head. "I'm far from being untouched, but there's no way I'm going to break over this. It's sad, but it could've been much worse. Dael could've died." 

He's not going into detail regarding Spock's surprise reappearance and ongoing interest into their whereabouts, the lingering suspicion that there'd been another, much more terrible fate down the road for them that only the old Vulcan's intervention had been able to stop. Nothing rational at all, just a gut feeling he wouldn't want to explain to anyone.

"Maybe this will have major impact on our foursome relationship, maybe it won't. Right now, to me, it's only delaying the things we planned anyway."

Leonard nods. "I get your point. Yes, it could've been worse and I'm glad that Dael is seeming to deal with it as well as could be expected. Jim's taking it really hard, though. Seems the news of becoming a father tapped into and kindled a subconscious, strong desire to have a family. Now that the option's taken away for the time being, he doesn't know how to put his feelings back into the box. Plus, he desperately wants to help Dael, but his approach isn't working, she's not reacting like he expects her to. He needs to understand that Dael's problems are different than his own. It's so easy to project both ones own experience as well as solutions onto someone else, but it doesn't always work."

Chris nods. "I'm going to talk to Dael, maybe I can make her call Jim. I think in a way she feels responsible for the loss and guilty for it, which makes speaking to Jim harder. But they need to get that cleared. I don't think he's accusing her in any way."

"Absolutely not," Leonard agrees. "We all knew the pregnancy had an elevated risk. You were right that it's sad but not totally surprising. And, well, between the two of us — as much as a half of all human pregnancies naturally abort within the first eight weeks. Nothing I'd tell Dael or Jim, because it wouldn't help their grieving, but that's how it is. From a medical point of view, all is within normal parameters. But the two need some time for psychological healing — and Dael needs time to deal with her past."

"Yes."

"Are you going to join her in that quest?" 

"No. I think it's something she needs to do on her own… without her second father figure." Chris smiles crookedly. "I'm not stupid, doc, I just never felt that it was the most defining factor between Dael and me. For an exploration of her past, however, I'm not the right man. I'm sure that she's going to be safe with Spock, though."

"Yes. Not the person I would've chosen, but as you trust him with her... I trust in you. I want her to be happy. I've… become really fond of her." Leonard rubs his nose, looking away from the cam for a second. "Really damn fond. I don't want anything bad happen to her."

"It won't, doc," Chris says. "We'll talk soon again."

"We will. Godspeed, Chris." The line closes.

***

With everything settling, one way or the other, Chris decides that it's time to organize his own future activities. 

He takes his communicator, looks up the number Iro gave him.

_If you ever change your mind about working for me…_

He's taking a bit of a chance here — he's got no clue whether he'd really be up for the kind of work Iro had him in mind for, whether his strategic knowledge, honed by decades in Starfleet, would hold for civilian routes. Or even whether his mental health would be able to deal with something resembling real work, trade negotiations and all.

Only one way to find out, though.

He calls the number. "George? This is Chris Pike. Could you tell Iro I'd like to speak with him?"

It only takes a minute before his former beach neighbor and owner of Ashaire is on the line, sound-only.

"Chris?" Iro's voice sounds pleased but a tad business-like. Probably he'd called him out of some important meeting. "What gives me the pleasure of your call?"

"Are you still interested in my working for you?"

"Oh," the voice on the other side says, instantly alert. "I thought you had other plans."

"Some plans just don't come to pass," Chris states, hoping Iro won't ask for details. "Which means I'm available for new projects."

"Oh. Please wait a second." There are subdued discussions in the background, swapping back and forth for a moment before Iro is back on the line. 

"How quickly could you leave Earth?"

"I'm available in eight days," Chris says. 

"Good. I'll have you picked up then. Destination Jupiter." 

"Sounds great," Chris says, then hesitates. "You really mean it, don't you? I don't want a job out of pity."

Iro chuckles. "Pity? No, Chris. We're talking business here. We're in the process of planning new travel routes through insecure regions of space, and our so-called experts are nothing but amateurs. I guess your change in plans isn't good news for you and I'm sorry about that, but trust me, for us, your call is a gift from heaven."

"Good," Chris says, a large weight lifting from his shoulders. "Eight days."

"An IXOS representative will be there. Looking forward to seeing you again, Chris. Very much." The line closes. 

"Guess I've got a job," he says when he joins Dael in the kitchen afterward, a little nonplussed about the quick proceedings. "Iro wants me to come." 

He half-expects her to ask who the man is, but she instantly turns and replies, "That's great. Leonard had already suggested to me that this might be an option for you, but he didn't want to push you towards it. He'll be delighted to hear the good news."

He slings one arm around her shoulder. "Thanks for being so wonderful," he whispers as he places a kiss on her patterned forehead. 

"Always," Dael says with a breathy voice. When she draws away, she gestures at her comm on the table. "I got a message from Nat, she wants us to come to a family dinner next Sunday. I... don't know what to tell her." 

Dael's departure is scheduled for Saturday. 

Chris captures her hand. "I'll drop her a note that I'll come alone."

"Tell them I'm so thankful for everything."

"I will." Chris looks at the small packages of food on the table, suddenly very much wanting to get out of their apartment. "I'd like to go out. Italian?" 

"Fine by me."

***

Dael's departure is a lot less dramatic and emotionally challenging than Chris thought it would be. The week they spend together at home in their apartment makes the transition easier and more natural. They're just a couple who's decided that they're going to take jobs in different corners of the quadrant for a while, not so different from a lot of other couples in the age of space flight. 

Speaking of couples, Chris is glad that they're able to meet John and Eric for a last dinner before the two men debark on an Intelligence mission; while it's a lot less cheerful than usual, it feels good to see their friends properly off like this.

He also manages to talk Dael into calling Jim for a face to face call, after which Jim is if not less sad about the loss of the baby then at least more resigned about Dael's travel plans, agreeing that it's sensible and probably necessary for her. 

Dael herself is quite composed — she's once more grown up, Chris thinks as he watches her pack her luggage, including her drawing material. He has a good feeling about letting her leave at this point, and little doubt that she'll indeed be back in a while. 

He delivers her to the space port in time, in the sunny afternoon hours of Saturday. Spock is waiting in front of it, greeting them both. They exchange a few words before the Vulcan gives Chris and Dael a moment for themselves.

They face each other in silence for a moment. Then Chris reaches out, running his hand along her face, taking in the patterns, the look in her eyes, the curve of her lips for a last time. "Dael, love... May you find everything you're looking for."

"Thank you," she says, mirroring his touch, her thumb sweeping over his cheek bone. "May you too find what you need... and I'll be back, I swear."

"I'll wait for you." A little melodramatic but true, and for once she doesn't complain about it. "And we'll keep in touch, all four of us. Promise me that." 

"I will. I won't withdraw like in the past."

They embrace and kiss, and then she grabs her bag, giving him a last, weak smile before she hurries off as if she doesn't want to give herself time for second thoughts. 

"I'll keep her safe," Spock says.

"I know." Chris looks after her disappearing figure. "I think this trip will do her good." 

"And what are your plans, Admiral?"

Chris smiles upon hearing the title. "The admiral retired. The _man_ 's going to work for a company owner I met a while ago. I leave Earth in two days."

"May you live long and prosper, Christopher Pike," Spock says, his hand forming the Vulcan ta'al.

"Same to you, Spock. Take care, of her and yourself. I expect you _both_ back whole."

"I will certainly attempt to achieve this endeavor," the Vulcan replies and takes his leave.

Chris doesn't wait to see the ship depart. 

***

Tom's farm looks almost like last time he was here, which had been for their wedding. In his mind's eye, he sees the fancy decorations that had awaited Jim and him when they'd rushed from their brief trip to the desert to the wedding ceremony. It had been a wonderful day, with everyone he loves and cherishes. 

The images of white roses and lanterns fade, substituted by the reality of Vince and Angie running towards him, welcoming him with the beautiful enthusiasm of children, asking for Dael, wanting to see the captain. He cuddles them with more strength than usual, never having been so painfully aware of what a gift children are, so easy to lose. When he lets them go, he needs a second to collect himself, unwilling to allow the walls to rise despite the emotional challenge that coming back here suddenly poses for him.

"Chris?" Nat calls out, then hastens down the stairs to welcome him on the path.

"Everything okay?" she asks him concerned, one hand on his shoulder. 

"Depends," Chris says and embraces her. "I'll tell you all later, okay?"

"Anything with your health?" Nat can't help asking when they walk towards the terrace. 

"No, I'm actually fine for once." 

Tom is just as perceptive as Nat is when he joins everyone in the living-room. "Everything okay, old man?" he asks lightly, but with a serious note underneath. It makes Robert and Cordelia check him out too.

Chris sighs. He hadn't quite wanted to start the family dinner with his story, but as the children are currently still playing outside, this might be a good moment.

"Not really," he concedes. "If you have a minute for me... " Everyone's gaze settles on him, as his friends — _family_ — straighten and brace themselves.

He clamps his hands on the back of a chair, anchoring himself.

"Eight weeks ago, Dael surprised me with the happy news that she was pregnant." The listeners visibly perk up, both on the news and the wording, the past tense.

"Jim, whose son it would've been, was delighted. We all were; we were ready to leap into a future together. Jim and Leonard asked for reassignment and were due to return to Earth soon. I put down my name for farmland, not far from here." Chris stops, trying to compose the next sentence in a less direct way, but there's no tiptoeing around the facts.

"A week ago, Dael lost the baby. You can imagine that this... changed everything. And worse, a part of her past played a role in it. I don't know how much each of you knows about Dael's history, but life hasn't been kind to her. She wasn't able to deal with it adequately back then, for she was too young and too hurt. Now she's decided it's time to change that, and so she left Earth yesterday with a friend of ours to revisit the places of her childhood and youth and hopefully bring closure to some aspects of her life." 

He takes a deep breath. "As for me... I've done everything in my might to return to my former level of health and performance. Which now, after my retirement became effective — and I absolutely don't regret having left Starfleet for good, my time there was definitely over... " Chris loses his train of thought. 

"You're going to leave Earth too," Nat states, not a question.

"Yes," he confirms, glad she helped him out. "Back on the beach, my neighbor Iro — the previous owner of Ashaire — offered me a job, so I called him and asked if the offer's still open. He said yes, so I'll leave for Jupiter tomorrow to work for IXOS."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Robert nodding. 

"Jim and Leonard will stay on the _Enterprise_ for now. We aren't giving up the dream of being reunited on Earth in the future, but obviously, fate didn't really allow us to have it now. I'm sorry I had to bring such unhappy news but you deserve to know the full story. Because you've always been there for me — for us — over the years, which means more to me than I have ever been able to express. And I promise, this time I won't simply disappear into space, none of us will. Dael says thank you, and hopes she'll see all of you in the future again. In a happier future."

He's out of words, and silence falls. 

"Oh, Chris..." Nat gets up from her chair. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she says choked as she draws him into an embrace. "But I'm glad to know that you all seem to be finding a way to deal with it." There are tears in her eyes. 

"We have to. There's no other solution," he says muffled against her shoulder. 

Tom is next. "Damn, old man, I wished..." he whispers, and don't they all have a lot of wishes that didn't come to pass, Chris thinks as he answers his honorary nephew's intense hug. 

"IXOS? I can already see you as a chairman in their infamous meetings," Robert says as he heartily shakes Chris' hand. "I wish you all the best, and I've got no doubt that after you've all come so far, you'll reach your goals in the end, even if it takes longer than expected." 

Cordelia is last. "Give my best to Dael. I can't imagine how painful it must've been for her. Just thinking of losing my children makes my heart hurt."

"I'll tell her. Yes, it's been terrible for her, and all of us." And then he says something that's long been overdue — "Thank you so much for being such a wonderful wife and mother. Tom is a very happy man indeed."

"Thank you," Cordelia replies, visibly surprised and moved. "Good luck in your new job, and I'll wait for the invitation to your new farm when you're back."

"Sure." Chris is glad when the children come inside, and they settle down for dinner. There's a somber atmosphere for a while, but he does his best to cheer everyone up. 

It's not a funeral, after all, and that's what he's most thankful for. 

***

When Chris is back home, there are only few hours until his own departure, so he quickly packs his standard suitcase and two additional bags, then makes a tour through the apartment. Nat had promised to offer asylum for his neglected plants and to look out for the apartment in general. It's all cleared and clean, the rooms like exhibitions of modern design; there are no lifesigns, no discarded clothes, no solitary coffee cups or random PADDS. In his home office, his eyes come to rest on Leonard's teddy bear, and he picks it up from the shelf. It's probably weird to take it with him, but in a quick decision, this and Jim's t-shirt with " _Go climb a mountain"_ find their way into his bags.

As for Dael... Chris wavers between her framed picture and her favorite Romulan poetry book, then takes both, wondering a little why she hadn't taken the latter herself. 

At last, he finds the box with the rings — two of the four rings he'd bought with Dael before her mission for Intel, the two that are still destined for their men. For a second he cradles the box in his hands, wondering if taking them with him would be too much of a good thing — but it feels _right_ , and so he places them into his small travel bag. 

Six hours later, he looks out of the window of the small IXOS space craft, the darkness of space outside, the comfort of a first-class seat inside, a small drink in his hand. 

_Here's to you, my lovers, godspeed to you until we meet again_ , he thinks and raises his glass to the stars. There's a possibility that in a while, the realization of what the last weeks had really brought upon him might settle in a painful way, but he's not going to break over it. He's never again going to break over anything. 

His PADD pings, and a message appears, a pile of attachments tucked to it.

_"Some information in advance. See you soon. Iro."_

Putting the drink aside, Chris starts reading.

***

On Jupiter - or rather Callisto, specifically, he's greeted by what is obviously supposed to be his temporary assistant, a tall young man who shows him to his hotel suite and relates the information that he's expected for dinner with Iro's inner circle in seventy-five minutes. The man introduces him to all necessary details for starting work, including the brand-new IXOS console in the room. 

There's a video message waiting. When the man has left, Chris starts it. 

It's from Dael. She smiles at the cam as she speaks. 

_"Beloved Christopher. It's barely three days that I've been back in space. I didn't know how much I missed it until I saw the stars again. Spock taught me to fly his ship, so I often take the comm now. The Nautilus is a sleek little beauty, deceptively modest but I've already found out that she's far from her original design parameters. Jim would totally love to analyze her."_

Her mood changes from excited to a little downcast over their lover's name, and she pauses for a second.

_"I still feel sad — in a strange, unreal way — but going away made everything easier. Spock briefed me on his upcoming diplomatic mission, and I'm so thankful I can be a part of it. When I joined Starfleet, I did it because I wanted to make a difference in the lives of people like me... refugees, the persecuted.... but after a while I found that I couldn't really do that within Starfleet. The Intelligence mission allowed me more impact than I would've thought possible, but you were right — their solution didn't feel morally okay. This here is very different."_

__She reaches out to the cam, a soft smile brightening her expression again.

_"So, all well on my side of the universe. I hope you'll soon be settled into your new position and I look forward to hearing from you, in a vid or a call. Love you, always — Dael."_

_P.S. I put something inside the top cover of your suitcase._

__Chris sets the message on infinite replay — it's too good to listen to just once — and then gets up to check out his suitcase. He finds a folded, paper-thin digital picture frame that he could put on a wall, and he does just that. Once it's switched on, pictures of their tribe show up — some private little shots, some of the series they'd had gotten taken professionally when they'd all four been together for the first time.

For a moment Chris watches the flow of images, waiting for a maudlin mood, but between Dael's excited voice in the back and the smiling faces of his lovers in front of him, it just doesn't come. Yes, things didn't go according to plan for now. So what? They will rearrange their forces and resources and try again in due time.

He's already looking forward to their tribe's first conference call.


End file.
